Love Me Again
by Italian Skunk
Summary: Alfred felt like he was entering a subway station as he placed a heat-seeking hand on the cold silver railing. His boots scrapped the stone steps with a dull echo, and he soon found himself following the shadows of arriving performers and audience.


The door shut with a clear, hellish bang. Muffled tires drove by, splashing water from an earlier drizzle onto the curb of the sidewalk. The dance studio's neon sign had flashed a bright, intoxicating violet.

_Dance Studio._

And an arrow pointing to a door that led downward.

That was all.

How captivating, mysterious, adventurous.

Alfred felt like he was entering a subway station as he placed a heat-seeking hand on the cold silver railing. His boots scrapped the stone steps with a dull echo, and he soon found himself following the shadows of arriving performers and audience.

He followed the audience, as he wasn't a performer. A man – crisp-cut brown hair, gray vest with gold buttons over a white shirt, and black pants – handed him a booklet after he paid to enter and stay. After all, he wanted to get out of the approaching rain. The cover was the of the building's sign. _Dance Studio._ An arrow diving into the earth too.

He entered the room, and sat off to the side, yet close to the middle for a good view of the stage. The lights above the stage were dim, and the chandeliers above the audience had yet to fade out.

Alfred didn't care much about the sign, he wasn't as curious anymore.

On the next page, a note as to those who helped out setting up the dance recital. The next page was titled Act 1. There were three acts. He skimmed the titles of the dances, and who performed in them, wondering if he knew anyone.

A single name caught his attention, having been burned into his memory like the neon lights of the building's sign into his deep sky blue eyes.

Chiara Vargas.

His first and last girlfriend, having spun into his life like she was warming up for one of the many jazz dances she was in. She had disappeared out of his life like her dance had ended, and it was time to go behind the curtains until the next one.

Alfred had painted her so many times, and told his brokenhearted self that she had told him again and again she would eventually leave, no matter how much she wanted to stay, and should have expected it. He was foolish to ignore it. He hadn't gotten over her; he couldn't get with someone else to tie him down, to keep him sane. He still painted _her_.

He sat through the first act.

She was there one second, and gone the next. The first ballet dance of hers was short, and she carried herself gracefully with the other girls in the class to _Arms_. But it wasn't of much interest to Alfred, it didn't tell a story. Those were his favorite, when the dancing told a story.

She wore a lovely pink gown that went with her pointe shoes, and her hair up in a somewhat loose, messy bun wrapped with a rose accessory.

Alfred would have to paint that later.

How the stage lights bounced off of her skin, the shadows of her eyelashes on her cheeks, that smile that should be on a Colgate commercial. How the skirt flared out with her turn and her foot lodged carefully, perfectly, at the back of her knee. How her arms raised and held at her middle, with fingertips brushing fingertips to keep her balanced.

The next dance she was in, however, did tell a story.

_Atlas_, she wore a dress that was loose and thin and made her the colorful morning sky of dark blues, pinks, purples, and oranges. A dying star.

Her class danced to a cover of _Tessellate_. She was dull reds and grays with a splash of gold tracing the ends of her skirt. A trapped princess.

_The Ballad of Mona Lisa_ was interesting. It was Chiara and one of the only male dancers there were. She stood in a makeshift frame, in position like she was the actual painting. In a way, there were times in which she was.

The other dancer was a statue. They stood in bright lighting.

The song began with the twinkling light music, and the lights dimmed out. That was when Chiara stepped free of her imprisonment, and the boy moved slowly, melting into a stretch. With the kick of other instruments, they fell into a pose that held them close together. They waltzed around stage, dancing and personifying the lyrics. The lights would flicker in time with what instrument played what. As the song slowed, Chiara spun into the man's arms. She flipped carefully into the air, and he held her balanced. The thin skirt of her dark dress shadowed down upon them. The music picked up once more, and she pushed off.

They danced, until the song ended, and then disappeared behind the heavy curtains.

Alfred tipped his head, deciding that was one of his favorites from this recital. He had been to others, and came across favorites, but for the past two years, he hadn't gone, because she had left two years ago.

Chiara didn't come back until the middle of the third act, and she would be done until the finale.

Her dance began with a hum, picking up into a nice instrumental. Other instruments Alfred didn't know the name of, really, had kicked in. All the while, she was slowly tipping back, lifting a leg in the air until it evened into a straight line with the other.

The song held a beat, in which Chiara bent the leg tethering her to the ground, and leapt off. She landed, performed another flip, and then her body was dropping into smooth bounces to keep the tempo running through her veins. She did turns and leaps and splits and other moves that Alfred knew the names of, but in French. She did things he would break his neck trying to do.

The audience clapped when the music clapped. It was their favorite, her dances always were. Maybe this was his favorite.

The lights flickered, she was one with the music, and as a car's horn bellowed and tires began to screech as a signal to the end of the song, Chiara disappeared through a trap door in an explosion of light smoke.

He could have sworn their eyes met the moment before, and that her eyes glistened with tears.

Alfred carried himself to the dressing rooms that were located away from the stage, focused on finding Chiara's. He peeked in rooms, finding them empty or performers lounging around and waiting for their turn to go. But never his ex-girlfriend.

He cracked open the door of another dressing room and poked his head in.

"Pervert!"

Alfred could only freeze. Chiara stood in the room, helping a younger girl with her dress. She stood in front of the girl, having been the one to insult him. She was still wearing the tux-like costume from her _Love Me Again_ dance.

"Get out before I beat you with this broom, you can't be back here, bastard. I'll call the police, and report that you're peeking in on the performers' dressing rooms." She continued, motioning to a broom within her reach, and her cell phone on one of the counters that held a mirror to the wall and littered with supplies for makeup and hair.

"Chiara please, just come with me… I want to talk."

She paused, hesitant. Her eyes were wide, her green eyes standing out against her smudged makeup.

"… Alfred?" she breathed, not sure if it was him or not. He looked so different, from his hair to his clothes, how he seemed like a shadow to what he had been before.

"Yeah, it's me…"

His heart was flickering, beating to that of a butterfly's.

"Get out."

"Huh?!"

"Just get out, get out for now. And maybe – _maybe_ – I'll find you. We can talk then, if I do come."

She was giving him a chance.

Chiara did find him, after the current dance ended and the younger girls hurried off for their dance.

She led him out to where the audience was gathered, and they settled on stools by the bar off to the far right to wait for drinks.

They got cups of hot chocolate. The beverages warmed their hands, Chiara's holding a slight shake from the adrenaline of dancing, Alfred's still dotted with raindrops from when he went out for a smoke during intermission. After this, they disappeared into a dimly-lit backroom.

Chiara flicked on another switch, and more lights sparked to life. There were a few sets of prepared pool tables, another bar.

"So what do you want?" she questioned, glaring at him.

"I read that this is your graduating year… in that packet or whatever the hell it was. So you're done unless you go to another school or… I don't know. Please, consider coming back with me, at least. I can travel with you, if that's it. I don't care if I have to, I've always wanted to, if that soothes your nerves." He said.

She looked away, and turned back to him, her tan jazz shoes scuffing the floor. Her apple-green gaze burned into his. Alfred noticed the golden chain around her neck, holding a slim and simple cross. That was where his hopes fell, and he wondered if she'd found someone else.

"I know… we'll see." She whispered, taking a sip of her drink and then set it down on the frame of one pool table. Chiara seemed to lean against him, their shoulders brushing, her perfume collecting on his dark jacket.

He shouldn't have kissed her.

It could have messed with her thoughts, jumbled them up, and made her think that getting back together was a bad idea.

She never found someone new.

That was _fantastic_.

He had changed.

That didn't matter.

Maybe it was a good change, she wondered as her eyes closed and Alfred seemed hesitant on moving his lips against hers. She reached a hand up to his hair, her fingers running through the blue streak within his blonde locks. It matched his eyes, the same deep sky color.

He still painted. She always liked waking up to a vivid splotch of pink on his cheek trailing away like a tearstain, or the fingertips of the hands that held her and ran through her hair flicked with an earthly, angry violet.

"Alright, alright…" she breathed when they broke apart. "I'll come back, you'll come back…"

They made out to the rhythm of _Animals_, disappeared into the night to _Miss Jackson_.

She never made it back for the finale.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Punk!Artist!Alfred and Dancer!Chaira, I guess? Okay, so I used a lot of songs in this so here they are and who they're by! :D**

**_Arms_ - Christina Perri, _Atlas_ - Coldplay, _Tessellate_ cover - Ellie Goulding, _The Ballad of Mona Lisa_ - Panic! At The Disco, _Love Me Again_ - John Newman, _Animals_ - Maroon 5, _Miss Jackson_ - Panic! At The Disco**

**I based this off of the music video for Love Me Again, kind of uwu And on my past dance recitals because _yes I do dance!_**

**Also, I feel like some things in this story need touched up. Any suggestions? And I've been thinking about posting something on my dA about the 2P! and 2P!Nyo designs I'll use for my stories, so like... you know about that design and stuff. Do you guys think I should?**

**I hope you enjoyed!**


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